by K. F. Baugh
“Really? But I think we should—”
“Really. And I don’t usually make promises. This is the best you’re going to get.”
Tim sighed and gave her a short nod. “I live in the yellow apartment building on 4th, just down the street and to the right. Do you know it?”
Sage jerked the car into gear and drove. As with most places in the small mountain town, it only took her a few minutes to get there. The second Tim’s feet hit the pavement, her Jeep peeled away.
On the drive home, Sage’s usually quick mind felt like it was struggling through a morass of bewildering details. The house was dark and deserted when she pulled up. Liddy must be with friends or staying at one of her cabins. Sage was thankful for the solitude. Pausing only to remove her shoes, she flung herself on the bed where Gus had already burrowed under the covers.
She spooned her body around the dog and considered how differently this day would have gone if Tim hadn’t joined her. Would she be dead, or worse yet, stranded at the bottom of a cavern with no way of escape? Or, what if by some miracle, she’d escaped the madness in the mine shaft and then decided to go to the police on her own? With Olson’s strangely antagonistic behavior, would she have spent the night in a jail cell?
Sage chewed on her lip until she tasted blood. Tim’s presence wove through this day like the bright red threads of the rug next to her.
She shoved the dirty clothes away and traced the Navajo rug’s rough weave, remembering when Grandfather Benally had given it to her.
“It is a Ye’i rug” he explained to her. “It was woven by my mother, but the elders of her clan did not like it. They ordered her to bury it because it was wrong to make images of the Holy People.”
“But she didn’t listen?” Sage asked from where she sat on the dirt floor, cross-legged. Even in the dim interior of the hogan she could see their forms clearly. She traced their strange faces with her fingertips.
“No.” Grandfather Benally chuckled. “My mother knew that she didn’t need to fear the Holy People, only respect them, so she finished weaving this rug. She had the spirit of a rebel in her heart. You remind me of her very much.
“This is why I gave you her name, Sage. Sagebrush is impossible to destroy. Fire, drought, snow, wind; none of these can kill it. Sage survives, no matter what. My mother survived many hard things, and you have too.
“That is also why I want you to have this rug. Take it with you when the government people come to get you. It will help you to remember me and your Diné family. It will help you remember that you belong to a people who survive.”
Sage grimaced. Social services came later that day to remove her from Grandfather Benally’s ranch and large, tangled family. She pleaded with the case worker to let her remain, but an underage runaway’s words didn’t hold much sway. This dusty Navajo sheep farm in the middle of the New Mexican desert had been the first place Sage felt loved or safe in the five long years since her family’s annihilation. But even with Grandfather’s promises of protection, the State felt Sage would be better off if she was removed from New Mexico and placed in an entirely different foster system, one that would make it harder for Uncle Brian to find her.
Tears fell as Sage continued to stroke the rough woolen images. She felt Grandfather’s hand on the back of her head. “You have learned many things while you lived here. Do not forget them, Sage. The world is full of darkness, but there is much light too. Do not be blind to either.”
“I wish you could go with me,” Sage choked through her silent sobs.
“So do I.” Grandfather’s voice cracked. After a moment of silence he continued. “But you do not go alone. The Holy Ones are always there. The Wind will not leave you.”
Sage took a deep breath and shook away the painful memory. Giving the rug one last gentle stroke, she turned on her back and pulled the blankets up to her chin.
“You were right, Grandfather,” she whispered into the silence of her room. “The Wind hasn’t left me. But I still wish you were here. Especially now, with that ‘adagąsh--”
Her shoulder flared with pain, and Sage rubbed the tender spot where she’d been hit with the bone bead. Alarm joined the sadness that had settled over her. Sage’s gaze darted through the darkness of her small room, and her ears searched the heaves and sighs of the old Victorian home for something more sinister.
It had been a long time since she’d encountered Navajo witchery, but it was just as disturbing now as when she’d first learned about it. The dull ache in her shoulder continued to thrum, and Sage knew sleep would not come easily tonight
Chapter Nine
Pine needles tore at Sage’s face, but she couldn’t slow down. Screams and frantic barking sounded in the distance, but she stumbled on through the forest shadows, unable to find the source of either. Save them, save them, a voice in her mind chanted. It was her job to protect, but the dim light made it impossible to see. Every time she tried to veer to the right, in the direction of the screams, a dark shape with red eyes blocked her path. It felt both familiar and frightening. She must keep away from it, no matter what.
A pounding noise joined the screams. The red eyes drew closer, and she could see teeth, a thousand little needles waiting to destroy her. There was no escape. The pounding sound and Gus’s barking grew louder.
“Sage? Sage, are you in there?”
She sat up in her bed and frantically searched the darkness of the room. The light on her nightstand read 3:00 am. It was only a dream, she assured herself. Sage lay back down, but let out a shriek when Gus barked and jumped on her chest.
“Get off me!” She bellowed and shoved Gus off the side of the bed. Crouched against the ground, the dog crawled under the bed until only the faint outline of his mottled white tail was visible.
“Sage, if you’re in there, open up! I need to talk to you.” A frantic male voice came from downstairs.
So not a dream after all. Sage rose from bed and crept down the stairs without turning on a light. She pushed the blinds on the window aside for a moment before recognition came. After flicking on the outside light, she jerked open the door.
“It’s three in the morning, Tim! What’s so important you couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
“We’re in trouble, Sage.” He shoved himself into the room, tossed a duffle bag on the floor, and closed the door. Quickly, he turned the lights back off, and jerked Sage to the ground with him.
“What in the--?”
“Shhhh!” Tim’s hand shot out and clenched her forearm. “Be quiet.”
“You were the one pounding on my door and screaming my name a minute ago.” Sage shook him off.
“You’re right. That was stupid, but I had to find you. Grab your stuff because we’ve got to get out of here. NOW!” He whispered and dread crept into Sage’s heart.
“Why?”
Tim grabbed her shoulders. “You barely know me, but I need you to trust me. We’ve got to get out of here before they find us.”
Sage didn’t pull away this time.
“Who?”
“Whoever killed those kids. And Ron Davis.”
“What?” The words came out as if she’d been punched. First Shaun and Tabitha and now the Sheriff?
Fear, then fiery adrenaline rushed through her, but Sage forced herself to take a deep breath and close her eyes.
Was Tim even telling the truth? Yes, her intuition whispered. Then a needle-like tingling zipped through her limbs and her heart thundered in her ears. Danger was coming for her. Fast.
“Sage, I’ll explain in the car. But first, grab clothes and some food.”
“No need. I didn’t unpack.” Shoving on her shoes, she grabbed her keys and whistled for Gus. “Come on, boy. Jeep.”
Gus shot from the door and raced toward the garage. Crouched at the opening in the door, Sage carefully watched the dog for signs of distraction or alarm, but there were none.
“Let’s move,” Sage whispered as Gus disappeared through his dog door in
to the detached building. Adrenaline coursing through her, Sage ran across the yard in a crouched spring. Her senses screamed with desperate alarm. They had to escape now.
“Grab those gas canisters on the floor,” she ordered once they were in the garage. “They should both be full.” Tim loaded them into the car along with Gus, while Sage manually raised the door.
“Don’t turn on your headlights,” Tim warned as he buckled his seatbelt.
“Don’t worry.” The moon picked up the glint of her smile as she jammed the car into first gear. “This isn’t my first getaway.”
Headlights off, the Jeep charged through her back alley and then across the street in mere seconds. Tim swiveled around, but Sage watched from the rear-view mirror. As they turned the corner, red and blue flashing lights erupted from the darkness at the other side of the alley. The cars pulled up to the garage the Jeep had just vacated.
“The police,” Tim said, his voice full of resignation.
“Any of them following us?” She negotiated around the trash cans, utility poles, and potholes.
“I don’t think so.”
Sirens, from what she imagined was the entire police force of Black Mills blared through the warm night air. Despite the maze of Sage’s back alley route, they continued to catch glimpses of emergency vehicles that seemed to materialize from nowhere.
“It looks like they’re all headed toward your house,” Tim said.
“Liddy!” Sage gasped but then remembered her foster mother hadn’t been in the house when she got home that night. Whatever Liddy was up to, Sage hoped it would keep her away from their home for several days.
Tim leaned back into his seat. “That was close. One minute more …”
“Yeah, you seem to have a knack for arriving in the nick of time,” Sage said, trying to put Liddy out of her mind as she steered onto an old gravel road. “First the coyotes, now the police. I hope there’s not a third time coming.”
“I guess. I don’t …”
In the dim moonlight she glanced over and saw Tim’s clenched hands on the dashboard bar. The rush of adrenaline that fueled their escape began to evaporate. “Are you okay?”
“No,” he gasped, his voice ragged with pain.
“So Sheriff Davis is … dead.”
“Yes. Dead.”
Because of what they’d discovered in the mine? Sage’s stomach recoiled. This was always what happens when authorities get involved, she inwardly raged. You thought you were fixing something by reporting it, but everything ended up even worse. Why hadn’t she listened for the Wind’s directions before she barged into a police station like an idiot? Sure, Tim had insisted, but normally she’d never let—
A groan interrupted Sage’s internal tirade. Startled, she glanced at Tim and saw him cover his eyes with his hand. The guy looked like he was about to vomit. Sage wracked her brain for something comforting to say.
“Are you …? I’m so … sorry, Tim.”
“Ron was a good man. A very good man. I worked with him and some of the kids at the church when they got into trouble and he had to step in. I saw how he handled things. The bad things. He had integrity, and he didn’t put up with anything less. I really admired him.” His voice cracked.
Sage, not knowing what else to do, reached out to touch his arm. Tim grasped for her hand and squeezed, his grip so tight it hurt. After a moment, she tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let go. They rode in silence for several miles before she turned on her headlights.
“Your hand is like ice.” He released her suddenly, seeming to come back to the present.
She jerked away. “It’s always like ice,” Sage mumbled, and Gus whined from behind her. “It’s okay, buddy,” Sage murmured to the dog. Both of them knew observations about her usually led to unanswerable questions.
Fortunately Tim was too preoccupied to notice. His voice broke the silence awhile later, and Sage could tell he’d been crying. “I didn’t even ask. Where are we going?”
“To a safe place,” Sage said. “Somewhere nobody’ll be able to find us.”
“You said this wasn’t your first getaway?” Tim asked.
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Good. Then you know what to do.”
“I know how to get us off the radar,” Sage corrected. “But after that? You’re going to have to tell me everything.”
Tim nodded, but from the white-knuckled fists that lay clenched in his lap, Sage knew it wouldn’t be a pleasant conversation.
Chapter Ten
They rolled to a stop at one of Sage’s most secluded mountain hideouts. The nighttime shadows made it even more challenging than normal to navigate the logging road’s hairpin turns and gaping holes before finally arriving at the remote location. Communication had been nearly impossible over the sound of the Jeep’s rattling battle with the rough terrain.
The engine ticked as it cooled. Sage looked at Tim. He’d been so silent during the drive she wondered if he’d fallen asleep, but now she saw he was wide awake. Eyes open, but also unfocused, he stared straight ahead, his body radiating tension. He looked almost catatonic.
Sage wasn’t sure what to do, but decided action, any type of action, was better than this strange torpor. “Well, we’re here. You ready to talk or should we set up the tent? The sun’s going to be up soon, but it might be a good idea to get some rest.”
Tim blinked, but didn’t respond.
“Tim, can you hear me? What do you want to do?”
He took a deep breath and looked around. “We need to scan the perimeter and determine if this area’s safe. Are you sure we weren’t followed? Until we know this place is secure, I’d rather you not get out.”
“Were you in the car with me the last hour, Tim?” Sage’s exhaustion and confusion overflowed into anger. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one followed us. And you don’t tell me to stay in the car. I’m the one who brought us here.” She jumped out of the Jeep. “My secret hideout, not yours.”
Tim’s sluggishness vanished; he exited and slammed the door so hard the Jeep shook. “I didn’t realize this was your show. You get to call all the shots, and I’m supposed to shut-up and do whatever you tell me?”
“Sounds good to me.” Sage held her ground as he approached. Gus, still in the car, began to bark wildly. “I never asked you to be a part of this, but you keep turning up like some kind of bad penny. Everywhere I go, you’re there, shoving your way into my business!”
“Your business? I guess I should have left you to your business in the mine earlier today.”
Sage banged a clenched fist on the hood of the car. “I would have figured something out. I’ve been taking care of myself for 20 years. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s!”
“This isn’t some survival game, Sage. Do you have any idea what happened to Ron?”
“No, because you haven’t told me! You showed up at my house like a lunatic and demanded we run.”
“I’m just trying to keep everyone—” Tim’s voice broke, but then he continued, louder. “There was blood everywhere, Sage! Hacked pieces of him were up in the center aisle, just like Sudan. Smears of blood, bits of entrails, splintered bone. I tried not to step in it, but I couldn’t help it.” He grabbed Sage’s shoulders in a vice grip. “The same as Sudan … Even up at the altar.” Tim’s eyes grew wild. “How could it be the exact same? I never thought I’d have to see—” Tim turned and heaved into the tree next to him.
Gus’s frantic barking drowned out the noise, and Sage’s mind raced. Another violent death, just like Shaun and Tabitha’s? Was there a serial killer loose in the area? It seemed unlikely; things like that didn’t happen in small mountain towns. Everyone was too much in each other’s business for aberrant behaviors to go unnoticed by friends, family, or authorities. Garbage usually got dealt with before it had a chance to rot.
Then again, evil always seemed to find a way. Sage swallowed. She knew that firsthand.
She watched as Tim finished
heaving and wiped at his mouth with a shaky hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she patted him awkwardly on the back. “I’m so sorry … That must have been terrible to see.”
Tim straightened and nodded, but kept his back toward her. For all his worry about shock earlier, Sage knew Tim was probably in the full throes of it himself and needed to be comforted. She made eye contact with Gus who had his head pressed against the Jeep’s windshield. She pointed at him through the window, and his barking stopped. He jumped onto the passenger seat.
Sage opened the Jeep’s door and buried her face into the silky fur on his forehead. “Quiet now. Tim needs you. Go do your thing.”
Gus nuzzled her face and trotted toward Tim, now crouched at the edge of the clearing. The dog circled him three times before leaning against Tim’s right side and gave his cheek a reassuring lick. Gus glanced back at Sage.
Nodding to him, she began to unpack her gear. As she wrestled with the tent poles, Sage’s mind screamed for answers. Who had killed the sheriff, and why had the police tried to capture her and Tim? Even more importantly, why did Tim happen to show up every time someone died, and was it even safe to be here with him?
Despite all the questions her weary body insisted it was time for rest. She glanced over at Tim. He shuddered and collapsed against a tree. The guy seemed too traumatized to be a threat to anyone right now. Besides, Gus would alert her if Tim were to prove a danger.
As if sensing her thoughts, Gus looked toward her and wagged his tail. For the moment, Sage knew she was safe. She needed to rest. Tomorrow was going to be one hell of a day.
Sage awoke to the irregular tap of a woodpecker hunting for bugs in a nearby tree. Under the slippery weight of her sleeping bag, her hand clenched at the sheathed game knife that rested between her breasts. Anxiety clawed her stomach as her mind struggled to remember where she was. She rolled over and studied the deserted tent. Tim! Her mind screamed. Where was Tim? Everything from the day before came roaring back.
